


The Demon in Paisley

by linda92595



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Implied Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-25 00:33:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/633209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linda92595/pseuds/linda92595
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John gets possessed by a different kind of demon</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Demon in Paisley

**Author's Note:**

> The Crack Wagon rolled around on this one.

Dean shoved the door to the hotel room open and held it in place while Sam half-dragged half-carried their father inside. Quickly he scooted over to one of the beds dropping John heavily on the surface. Dean closed the door then dropped down onto the bed beside his father's prone body, checking John's pulse. He sighed.

 

"Come on Sammy, help me get him undressed and cleaned up."

 

They stripped John down to his underwear and Dean brought in warm water in the ice bucket and a washcloth working his way down John's face, neck and chest cleaning way the dried blood. Once they had the various cuts and bruises cleaned and dressed they tucked the blankets around John and crawled into bed themselves.

 

Sunlight was leaking through the dark curtains when Sam rolled over. Dean was gone, presumably out for coffee and John was still asleep in the bed across from Sam. He rose and went into the bathroom to take a shower, leaving the .45 on the tiled counter-top by the sink, just in case.

 

After a while he heard movement in the other room and was relieved that his father was feeling well enough to get out of bed. Hurriedly he finished so that John could have the bathroom and frowned when he heard the sounds of furniture being pushed around the room. The door to the room opened just as Sam was coming out of the bathroom. Dean settled a paper cup carrier with three cups of coffee and a bag of pastries on the table, but John hissed at him waving Dean back.

 

"Just give me a second to move this table closer to the window, okay honey?"

 

Dean froze cocking his head. "Uh Dad, what did you just say?"

 

"I said I'm moving this table. This room is so crowded. I thought it would free up a little space in here, improve the traffic flow pattern."

 

"In case we're attacked in the room and need to maneuver?"  Dean said nodding at Sam who was making frantic gestures at his brother behind their father's back. Dean just sneered at Sammy and shook his head.

 

"In case we all die of bad feng shui," John sighed. "God, couldn’t you have found a better room. This one is so tacky-it just screams trailer trash heaven."  John marched around the table picking up the coffee. He took a long drink then glanced at the drapes. "No, not helping. Look at these curtains. They're so busy. I swear to god somebody should tell the decorator this is the 21st century."

 

He flipped the bag open glancing down at the pastries and groaned. "Oh no, I am not eating that. Do you know how much fat and cholesterol these have? It'll go straight to my thighs. I want a real breakfast. Just let me get a quick shower and we'll go to that diner across the street." Humming to himself John gathered up his clothes and disappeared into the bathroom.

 

Sam launched himself at his brother. "Okay, I don’t know what is going on here, but something is really wrong with Dad."

 

"What so he's developed a sense of style, he's fine. He's probably just a little shaken up from the fight yesterday."

 

"Dean, this is more than nerves. He's acting weird."

 

"I think it's cute."

 

Sam jerked back. "Are you insane?"

 

"Hey, dude, tell me we still have that camcorder that Bobby lent us to tape that exorcism. I think we still have a couple of blank tapes left."

 

Nodding Sam went to his duffle bag and pulled out the camera. He loaded a tape into it and handed it to his brother. "Yeah, that's it. Let's get this filmed. We can send it Bobby so he can look it up and see how to fix it."

 

"What! Are you kidding?" Dean hissed. "We can get enough blackmail material out of this so that we never have to do PT again."

 

 

Dean smiled at the waitress, and she straightened up more than enough to push her ample cleavage further out of the top of her blouse. John rolled his eyes shoving between her and Dean.

 

"Oh please, my boy has more sense that to drop his drawers for some aging cougar like you, sweetie," he said putting a hand on his son's arm. The waitress pulled up short and turned a vicious glare on their father. Sam felt his blood go cold.

 

"Aging cougar? Who are you calling _aging,_ you old queen?"

 

John snarled getting right up in her face. " _Old?_ You've got some nerve honey. We have tires on the car that haven't' seen as much mileage as you're working…"

 

"That's it; I'm going to slap you into next week."

 

“If you think you can, sister.”

 

The woman pushed her sleeve up, dodging Sam and taking a swing at John. John sidestepped easily; even possessed he still had his reflexes. Dean jumped between the two and caught John by the waist. Smiling he sidled up to the woman pulling John along with him until he was sandwiched between the two.

 

"Now, girls, I'm sure we can work this out between the three of us."

 

Sam's jaw dropped. First of all he couldn't believe that Dean had just referred to Dad as a girl and secondly he wasn't sure he wanted to know how Dean intended the three of them to "work this out."  Offering the waitress his most gallant look he smiled.

 

 "Can't we just have a table please? My Dad isn't feeling well. It's been a rough week."

 

He all but batted his eyelashes at her. She gave him a tight little smile and pulled three menus off the reception desk motioning them forward. After she had plunked the menus on the table she stood back letting John settled into the booth. Dean pushed his father over and slid into the seat next to him, waving Sam into the booth on the opposite side of the table. Sam sat down.

 

After they had placed their order the waitress slammed three mugs of coffee down on the table. John slid his over eyeing it critically.

 

 "You'd think they'd at least have a clean cup in this dump."

 

With a grimace the waitress whirled.

 

"Bitch," she hurled at John.

 

He snuffed a breath out eyeing her just as critically but Dean clasped John's knee with one hand. John winced.

 

"Slut," he managed to toss at the departing figure's back. She turned again face drawn in anger and Dean half stood between them.

 

"I mean it ladies, behave."

 

John smacked Dean's hand. "Let go of my leg. I'm not that kind of girl."

 

He shoved his shoulder against Dean's side. "I have to go….you know." he waved his fingers in the general direction of the restrooms. With a frown Dean rose letting John out of the booth. He glanced at the door to the kitchen.

 

"Dad, you stay away from that waitress."

 

John snorted. "Oh please, cheap, tacky waitresses are your thing, not mine." he said in a sign-song voice.  Sam watched him go then leaned across the table glaring at his older brother.

 

"Are you still trying to tell me something is not really wrong with Dad?"

 

"So he's acting a little odd…"

 

"Odd! Dean, Dad just got into a bitch fight with the waitress, over you."

 

Sighing Dean took a sip of his coffee. "It's just some kind of residual energy from the exorcism. It'll dissipate; all we have to do is ride it out."

 

Sam huffed out a breath. “You just like the attention.”

 

When Dean shot him an offended look Sam shook a finger in his face. “You like it that Dad was in that woman’s face—over you. You bastard.”

 

John walked back to the table pausing beside his younger son. “Don’t talk to your brother like that young man. Move over…”

 

“Go sit with your favorite.”

 

"Jeeze Louise what’s got your drawers in a knot?” John picked the coffee mug and took a gulp. “This is just awful didn’t they have cappuccino?”

 

Sam frowned at him. “Dad, this is a diner they have coffee, deal with it.”

 

“Oh, you’re just all worked up now aren’t you?” John said waving his hand limply in the air in Sam’s direction. Dean frowned noting the hostile glares of two truckers sitting at the counter. Quickly he pushed John’s arm down on the table.

 

“Dad, don’t do that again, ever.”

 

After they finished breakfast John hustled the boys out the door and headed for the lone clothing store in town looking for "something to wear that doesn't make me look like a dowdy lumberjack."

 

Dean leaned over to Sam. "What's dowdy mean?"

 

Sighing Sam shoved his brother away. "Honestly I didn't know Dad used words like that."

 

Dean wandered after John, trying to keep an eye on his father and keep enough distance so that people didn’t really know that they were together. John paid for his purchase and shoved his black t-shirt and plaid flannel shirt into the bag donning a chartreuse and lavender paisley shirt. Dean's jaw dropped when his father flounced out the door, and he felt a suddenly sense of dread settling into his stomach as John wandered toward the town's also solitary bar.

 

In the meantime Sam was talking to Bobby Singer on his cell phone, sitting on the landing of the hotel and watching as Dean slunk after John with his head down and his hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket.

 

"Hi, Bobby? Yeah there's a problem, no not Dean with Dad.  Well, he's acting odd."

 

Bobby's voice was low and calming. "Odd? How is he odd-- like head-spinning and projectile vomiting odd?"

 

"No, he's…more festive."

 

"Festive? You're bitching because John is in a good mood. I know that doesn't happen often but he may not be possessed, how 'bout just oh...happy?"

 

"No it's more like he's flamboyant."

 

"What the hell does that mean?"

 

"I'm telling you Bobby, Dad is weirding me out. I sent you a clip of film from my cell phone in your e-mail. Check it out for me."

 

The bark of laughter on the other end of the phone told Sam that the older man had gotten the video clip. Finally Bobby's smooth southern accent rumbled over the line.

 

 "You should have just said 'screaming queen', I would have got that."

 

"So this is what, possession? Dean thinks its residual energy from the exorcism, but the demon we dispatched was definitely not drag queen material…"

 

He could hear Bobby's indrawn breath. "John's dressing in drag again?"

 

Sam shook his head wearily. "No, Dad's not dressing in drag…Did you say again?"

 

"Uh, must have been a slip of the tongue." Bobby stammered. Sam pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Bobby coughed and continued.

 

"I think we're dealing with possession, not residual energy. If it was residual then John would take on the characteristics of the demon you exorcised. This is probably just a coincidence, a random possession. It happens once in a while. Sometimes a demon hangs out on the fringe of a more powerful demon looking to move in when it gets bumped back to hell. They're sort of like the Hermit Crabs of the demon world. Is he dangerous?"

 

"Only to the interior decoration of the hotel room, and the occasional waitress who flirts with Dean. I thought he was going to bitch slap this one chick into next week. Dean's having a field day with this, too."

 

"No big surprises there. Well, just keep him away from waitresses and try not to let him throw his back out moving furniture. I'll work on setting up an exorcism that won’t hurt him. You boys just get him over here as fast as possible."

 

Sam closed the phone and watched as his brother disappeared into the bar. Heaving a sigh he trotted down the stairs and headed off across the parking lot toward the dumpy, low profile building with river-rock walls and tinted windows. By the time he had walked the hundred or so feet across the parking lot and pulled the door open all hell had broken loose.

 

He stood blinking as Dean straddled the narrow aisle between the pool table and the bar holding a pool cue loft. He was spitting mad at the hulking biker dressed in black leather and skin tight blue jeans who just happened to have John straddling his lap.

 

Sam felt like just turning around and walking back out the door but only the fear that One--Dean would kill the guy and end up in jail or Two--that the guy would beat the crap out of his brother before Dean killed him and ended up in jail or Three-- his father was going end up as some guy whose name was apparently Meatcleaver's bitch on the back of a Harley in Armpit, South Dakota and they'd have to go haul his ass back to Bobby's.  And South Dakota was pretty damn cold this time of the year. So being the truly only reasonable one in the Winchester Clan, such as it was, Sam pulled the .38 he had tucked into the waistband of his jeans and sidled up beside his older brother.

 

"Dad, get off his lap, now."

 

"Oh fine. Sorry honey maybe when the killjoys aren't around." John patted Meatcleaver's arm, the big man grinned shrugging but he did manage to slap John's ass in parting, and John giggled. Dean winced.

 

"That's it I'm duct taping you to the bed."

 

John rolled his eyes. "I would have more fun if you'd let Meatcleaver do it."

 

"Hell no." Dean said dropping the cue on the pool table and grabbing John's arm. They backed out of the door and Sam covered them while Dean dragged their father back to the hotel.

 

When they were ensconced in the room again, Dean sitting on one bed and John pouting on the other Sam settled into a chair.

 

"I called someone to help. He's working on getting this fixed. We need to get Dad over to his place as soon as we can. You two stay here. I'm going to go gas up the car. I swear if either one of you so much as sets foot out of the room I'll go postal and kill you both."

 

After he had the Impala fully fueled and had loaded up on some snacks and soda for the trip Sam pulled into a parking place at the foot of the stairs and bounded up. A noise from inside the room made him pause and Sam stood on the landing outside the motel room head cocked, listening. He wasn't entirely sure what he was hearing, but some sound from inside the room sent a cold chill over his body. He could clearly hear Dean's muttering as he shifted restlessly on the bed. He could hear the deeper voice of his father but it seemed muffled somehow, and Dean's shuffling was drowning him out.  Suddenly Sam could head the bedsprings squeal, and John's voice more clearly.

 

"Dean, let go of my ears; I know what I'm doing."

 

There was a muffled sound then his father said, “This would be a lot easier if you would just take the damn jeans off.”

 

Suddenly Sam slammed the door open with more force that was necessary. The door flew into the room and caromed off the wall with a resounding bang. The painting on the wall above the dresser rattled then fell into the floor. John and Dean both winced.

 

From his vantage point at the door Sam could see Dean sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning back on both elbows with John kneeling in front of him. Sam took two steps into the room and pulled up short, his entire body relaxing. John was holding a needle and thread in one hand, and the button Dean has torn loose from his jeans earlier in the other. He was scrabbling on his knees as Dean tried to suck in his gut enough to give John room to maneuver.

 

John smacked Dean on the leg. “If you didn’t wear your jeans so tight they’d cut off all circulation.”

 

“I get plenty of circulation, Dad.” Dean sniffed. John rolled his eyes and fanned himself with one hand.

 

“I meant to your brain, sweetie.”

 

Chuckling under his breath Sam flopped onto the other bed. Both his father and his brother paused in what they were doing to stare at him. “Sam, are you okay?” Dean asked.

 

John rose to his feet, moving over to re-hang the fallen painting. “What was that all about?” he snapped, “What a ruckus. Is somebody after you?”

 

Now that he could actually see what was happening Sam was embarrassed, especially since he had to explain his actions to his father. “I thought that you were…That Dean was taking advantage of your mental incapacitation.”

 

“Taking advantage of my _what?_ ” John asked putting his hands of his hips.

 

“Dude you actually thought that Dad was…” Dean snorted grinning at his younger brother. “Sammy, you little pervert. I’m proud of you.”

 

John settled down beside his younger son patting Sam’s arm. “Take advantage of me? Oh please baby boy, the day that I can’t handle some dime-store cowboy like Dean is the day I’ll hang up my boots.”

 

“Dime-store cowboy?” Dean snapped. “That hurts, Dad. That hurts real bad.”

 

They packed their bags in the trunk and Dean pulled the Impala onto the freeway. Sam was riding shotgun and John was sitting in the middle of the back seat hanging over the front seat. He pointed to the tape box.

 

"Let me see that. Oh god, don't you have anything worth listening to in here?"

 

Dean glanced at him in the rearview mirror. "Sorry Dad, but if you start singing show tunes I'm going to tie you up and put duct tape over your mouth."

 

John turned to his younger son. "Have you ever noticed how he's fixated on my mouth, and tying me up?"

 

Sam snickered and Dean shoved his father back over the seat. John grunted. "I just think that you need to work on these Daddy issues you seem to have."

 

"I don't have Daddy issues. Will you just talk about something else?"

 

"Where are we going anyway?" John asked. Dean sighed, he had been dreading answering this question considering that John and Bobby had a strained, since Bobby had tried shooting John, relationship.

 

"We're going to Durham, to Bobby Singer's place."

 

"Oh, my god. I haven't seen Bobby in ages." John said smiling. "We used to be really good friends."

 

"Yeah, what happened there?" Sam asked. John shrugged.

 

"He had an issue that I couldn't deal with back then. Now that I've broadened my horizons maybe it wasn't so bad an idea."

 

"You have issues with a lot of people, Dad." Dean said and John reached over the back of the seat and smacked him on the back of the head.

 

"It isn't always my fault. Is Ellen still peddling that bullshit that I'm responsible for Bill's dying?"  Rolling his eyes John continued. "You know Bill only married her because she was pregnant. Nobody even knows if Joann is his girl."

 

"Dad, don't say things like that."

 

"Well it's true. I've heard she could spread her legs higher and wider than any girl in Nebraska."

 

Sam cringed but Dean burst out laughing. Sam tossed him a dirty look and Dean brushed his hand over his mouth. "Dad that's about the bitchiest thing you've said so far. Keep up the good work. Got any other good dirt on anyone else we know?"

 

Sam shook his head. "Dean don't encourage him. This could get real ugly, real fast."

 

It was late in the afternoon two days later when they pulled into the front gate of Bobby's place. He met them at the door. John bounced out of the car rubbing his rear end.

 

"You couldn't have stopped along the way. I think my ass is permanently flattened out." He turned to Bobby. "Well, is my ass flattened out?"

 

Bobby flushed stuttering. "Ah John I really haven't seen your ass in a while so I'm not that familiar with it…"

 

"You used to want to be familiar with my ass, Bobby." John said simpering; Bobby shuffled back a step looking at the two younger men standing mouths agape. Dean straightened up, hands at his waist, and Bobby strained to see if he had a gun tucked into his waistband.

 

"Now John I think you misunderstood me…"

 

"No, I didn't." John said smugly.

 

"Yes you did, especially since your boy is standing there with a .45 tucked into his drawers."

 

"Maybe I've changed my mind." John sidled up to Bobby tucking his arm into the other man's elbow. Bobby swallowed.

 

"Let's get him inside and get this thing done. Before something happens that I'm going to regret."

 

John tugged his arm out of Bobby's and stomped into the house. Suddenly he paused and Dean could see he was just on the outside of the Devil's Trap that Bobby had painted on the ceiling. John shrank back, eyes narrowing. He tried to dodge Sam and flee out the door.

 

Dean grabbed him on one side and Sam on the other. Bobby shoved a chair over and the two younger men slammed John into the chair as their father writhed and cussed. Dean managed to get one of John's arms tied down, but their father jerked against Sam pulling his arm free and shoving the younger man down. Bobby grabbed John from behind and jerked his arm down holding him in place while Sam wrapped and tied off the rope. Once they had John secured Bobby brought the book of prayers over reading the first part of the exorcism.

 

John twisted in the chair spitting at the other man. "You don't have to do this Bobby. I'm offering what you've wanted for years now. I promise I won't let him bite you this time. You can have him, Bobby. Just let me stay."

 

Bobby motioned to a piece of clean cloth on the table beside the chair. "Gag him."

 

John jerked his head back and Sam winced when he heard the bones in his father's shoulder creak and pop. "He's going to hurt himself."

 

With a sly grin John cocked his head, "Come on Bobby you know you want to shove something beside that cloth in his mouth."

 

"Shut up bitch" Bobby snapped. Dean grinned.

 

"See I told you. Its like we should all be dressed in leather chaps with no jeans under them and he should be walking around in black leather with a paddle…"

 

Sam, Bobby and John all turned to stare at him. Dean blinked. "Uh never mind. I'm just going to gag him now."

 

"Maybe you should gag yourself while you're at it," Sam said with a grimace.

 

John was too stunned to fight and Dean got the gag in his mouth.

 

Bobby read the ritual through and John's body writhed. He screamed as much as he could with the rag in his mouth. When Bobby finished the second reading John's head tipped back and Bobby quickly tugged the cloth free. The oily black cloud of the demon's true form spewed out of John's mouth dissipating as the demon was consigned to the depths of hell.

 

Sam and Dean hurriedly untied their father as John sagged down in the chair. He drew a deep breath and smiled wearily up at his sons. Bobby stood to the side but John rose unsteadily to his feet. "Bobby thanks. I'm sorry about all that…"

 

"Hey, no need. I'm glad I could help."

 

Dean looked over at the two older men. "So what was all that about?"

 

"Not now, Dean." Sam said frowning at his older brother. Dean shot Sam a look then surrendered.

 

"Fine, I'll talk to Dad later."

 

John stood looking at his two sons. Sam offered him a tentative smile, but Dean was trying to do anything but look at his father. Bobby mumbled something about having to do something outside and disappeared into the other room. John watched him go; he and Bobby needed to talk. Wincing he worked his fingers into the sore muscles along his shoulder. Finally he huffed out a breath.

 

“So, that was… different.” He managed to mutter. Sam cringed he had been half hoping that his father wouldn’t remember anything he had done when he was possessed. Apparently no such luck.

 

Sam reached out patting his father’s arm absently. “Is your neck okay? I can get you some ice.”

 

“No, I’m fine. So was I really that much of an uhmm…” John stammered. Sam winced again.

 

“Bitch.” he provided helpfully. John shot him a look until Dean started laughing. Sam threw an elbow into his brother’s side, but Dean managed to dodge it.

 

“Oh my god, Dad, you were like this incredible bitch goddess. All you needed was a pair of high-heeled patent leather boots and a whip. Ka--shaw…” Dean made a motion with hand like cracking an invisible whip, and grinned. Oblivious to the looks that both his father and brother were giving him Dean snorted. “Man, it was almost hot…”

 

Glaring at his older son John growled to Sam. “You know that I’m going to have to kill him, don't you?”

 

“I’ve got your back on this one, Dad.” Sam said smiling. Dean sensing a change the direction the wind was blowing hustled toward the door.

 

“I’m going to go help Bobby.”

 

“Come here, Dean” John said wagging a finger. Dean shook his head and made a dash for the door. John jumped after him.

 

“Come here, son.

 

The End


End file.
